Three weeks, and no sign.

They’d underestimated the time needed to search the region on passive radar, but with each passing day the cold reality of the task before them settled deeper into their bones. There had been a couple of false alarms, random bits of junk that had popped through the filters, but their quarry thus far had eluded them.

And to make matters worse, the boredom was driving Maggie bonkers.

Tinkers didn’t do idle very well. Their hands were always filled with some random piece of equipment, keeping them busy. Many saw it as meditation, much like some individuals might knit sweaters or finger prayer beads. It let the mind go, allowing muscle memory to take over...and among Terrans there was always something needing repair.

But given her injuries, Blye had put her foot down, sending her to the proverbial showers. Oh, there were things they allowed her to do, like monitoring the radar sweeps, but that was even worse than doing nothing. Despite opinions to the contrary Maggie could relax, chatting with Rúna or lounging with Diggs, but watching the board and waiting for a signal was like slow torture. It wasn’t long before you found yourself willing the Universe to give you a sign, a futile and tiring gesture. It was the kind of duty that seemed to laugh at the laws of physics, making time run backwards or even come to a halt. She’d taken a single shift, and that was more than enough, thank you very much.

Nor was she the only one aboard ship cursed with a profound sense of ennui. They’d repaired the damage from the Yīqún attack, leaving the passengers and crew hours and hours of time to fill. The Captain ran drills to keep folks on their toes, but even then they felt as if they were sleepwalking their way through the motions. They played games, stimulants of various forms were consumed, physical partnerships came and went...and still they waited.

The plasma burns she’d suffered during the attack had started to heal, reaching the “Itchy New Skin” phase and making sleep all but impossible. The creams Blye had given her only had a minimal effect, the pills somewhat less. She’d tried lukewarm showers, cool compresses...even some homebrewed plaster Isi cooked up in the Mess. Nothing seemed to help, leaving her exhausted and miserable and more than happy to share her suffering with those around her. With Diggs, she could keep it in check, but he was the only one.

She was tossing and turning on her cot for the umpteenth time that hour when a message over the intercom jolted her upright.

“Captain to the bridge, all hands to Recovery stations,” Xuilan announced, as they stirred, “...we have a Tango.”

“Probably more space junk,” Maggie griped as she reached for her tunic.

“I will be so glad when you’re healed,” Rúna grumbled, strapping on her gun belt.

Diggs sat up, rubbing at his eyes. “Nothin’ to worry about,” Maggie assured him, managing a rare smile, “go on back to sleep.” He looked over to the Valkyrie, who nodded in agreement. With a weary shrug, he flopped back onto the pillow, already snoring.

“...must be nice,” the Tinker muttered, begrudging the boy’s simple ability, as she and the corporal staggered out into the corridor, heading for the Bridge. Halfway there they ran into Slavko, shaking his head before they could speak.

“You know as much as I do,” he told them as he slipped past them, disappearing back the way they’d come. The two women shared a brief look before resuming their hike, arriving at their destination less than a minute later. The rest of the Bridge team was already in position, the Captain looking almost as annoyed as Maggie herself did.

“Talk to me Xui,” he barked, as she plopped down behind the Sensors console, mirroring the pilot’s incoming telemetry.

“I’ve got a solid fix on the location,” she told him, “and the signal is strong. Already adjusted course for an intercept.”

“Then bring us in,” Remi ordered, as she tapped at her controls. He turned to look at Maggie, who was busy reviewing the incoming data. “How’s it looking?”

It took a minute for her to respond. “Confidence is high,” she said in surprise. “Gettin’ a solid ping, parameters match down to three decimals.” She looked up from the display and met his gaze. “It’s the best hit we’ve had so far.”

“Then let’s hope we’ve struck antimatter,” he replied, as a call came over the intercom.

“This is Slavko,” the gunner called in. “Me and Isi are standing by the airlock, suited and ready for EVA.”

“How long?” the Captain asked Xuilan.

“We should be in Capture range in the next fifteen minutes,” she told him, as he passed the data to the other personnel.

In fact, it was closer to thirty minutes when she killed the maneuvering thrusters. “In position,” she confirmed. “Tango is one hundred meters off the port bow.”

Remi thumbed the intercom button. “Recovery team, you are a ‘Go’,” he told them, leaning back in his chair.

“Copy, exiting now,” Slavko responded, as they settled in to wait.

The minutes ticked by even more slowly than when they’d been waiting for a hit, if such a thing were possible. Maggie fidgeted in her seat; the puncture wound in her ass itched even worse than the burns did. As the captain looked ready to chew through a bulkhead, they got a call.

“We’re coming back in,” the gunner apprised them, “and it’s a body.”

“Is it the target?” Remi demanded.

“Can’t say for sure til we’re back inside,” Slavko replied. “Might not be a terrible idea to have Maggie waiting for us so she can verify.”

“Copy that,” the captain told them, before turning to the Tinker. “Maggie…”

“...I’m goin’, I’m goin’,” she sighed, leveraging herself out of the chair. Rúna was at her side moments later, but she waved off the Valkyrie’s offer of help. The pair made their way back down the corridor, coming to a halt outside the airlock hatch...where a small group had already gathered. They looked expectantly at her as she rolled her eyes.

“Look, we’re not sure yet,” she said, exasperated. “All we know is it’s a body. When they haul it in, then we’ll know.”

“And you’ll be able to tell if it’s him?” Samara asked her.

“Well, since the name’s printed on his helmet, and I can read, yeah...I’m feelin’ pretty sure about that,” she groaned. Lord, she hated stupid questions.

“And if it is him?” Sergeant Kai pressed.

“Then me and Mairead see if we can dig anythin’ out of that transponder,.” she explained. “It’s still a damn longshot, people. Don’t be expectin’ miracles.”

Her words didn’t seem to gain much traction, not even from Alphad, watching from a nearby monitor. She shook her head in weary frustration. The problem was that they still believed, on a level she was no longer capable. Circumstances had burned any chance of that out of her on her last trip, and despite any speeches she might have made, that didn’t make her a convert...just desperate.

The outer hatch slid open, as Slavko and Isi muscled an object into the airlock. Even under the dim lights she could tell it was a corpse, wearing an old-style suit. Despite her best efforts to calm herself, her heart was pounding with excitement. She felt almost giddy as they closed the outer door and began pumping air in, navigating her way to the inner door as the others stepped back in respect. They waited with a hushed silence as the inner hatch slid open, the two men removing their helmets as she got down onto her knees, with the young corporal’s help.

“Is it him?” Isi asked, barely above a whisper.

Maggie brushed the dust from the helmet, staring at the desiccated face, before glancing up at the stencil over his brow.

LT A. Tsvetanov

“...it’s him,” Maggie said softly.

It didn’t seem right, yanking off the transponder and tossing the Lieutenant’s body back out like yesterday’s trash, so instead they placed him on a cargo dolly and took him to Engineering. Almost the entire ship’s crew and complement followed, save for the pilot still on the Bridge, and Diggs who was likely asleep. The procession was as reverent as any funeral she’d attended, coupled with a singing twinge of excited hopefulness she didn’t know how to speak to. As they locked down the cart and gathered their tools, Maggie turned to the crowd.

“I don’t know how long this is gonna take, and last thing we need is you hangin’ over us. So scoot.”

Remi nodded in agreement and took it from there. “You heard her. Back to your posts, or your compartments. If you just can’t bring yourself to sleep, Isi will make something in the Mess.” The cook nodded, peeling off and heading towards the Galley. “As soon as we know anything, we’ll tell you.”

There was hesitation and grumbling, but under the captain’s stern gaze they bowed their heads and slunk away, though almost all risked one last peek before they rounded the corner, as if there were some chance they’d already learned the answer. Once the last was out of sight, the Corsair turned back to face them. “How long?”

“Could be minutes, could be hours,” Maggie shrugged. “We’ll call you.”

“Call me first,” Remi growled. “Either way, I’ll need to be ready.”

“Aye Cap’n,” Mairead nodded. He gazed down at the long-dead scout, as something seemed to gel behind his eyes, before turning on his heel and following the others out of sight.

“So...how do you want to do this?” the engineer asked.

“Let’s roll him over,” she told her, gripping his shoulder as the other woman positioned herself at his hips, the two of them managing without difficulty. With the body face down, the transponder was now visible. Taking a scrub brush, she began clearing the dust from the fittings, grimacing as she saw just how clogged the screws and bolts were. “This might take a while,” she sighed.

Mairead reached in her toolbox and pulled out a bottle of cleanser, but Maggie waved it aside. “Might contaminate the electronics,” she told her. The engineer raised an eyebrow as her counterpart shook her head. “I know it’s unlikely, but I ain’t takin’ any chances. We do this slow and steady, and we don’t cut corners. Not on this one.”

“...I understand,” she said after a moment, replacing the cleanser as she perused the toolkit, before settling on a curved fine-toothed pick. She held it up for inspection, with Maggie giving it a quick look before nodding in approval. Mairead handed it over as the older woman began scraping away the centuries of grit adhered to the surface. It was slow, painstaking work, the two women spelling each other as bit by bit, they cleared off the dull metal box.

“Torx wrench,” she ordered, as if she were a surgeon fighting to save a patient, “let’s start with a T10.” The engineer slapped it on her palm as she fitted it over the exposed bolt. “That’s the one,” she grunted, bracing herself as she put pressure on the tool. It was stubborn, but with effort it turned.

“Easy now,” Mairead cautioned. “We don’t want to break off the head or strip the threads.”

“Don’t teach your grandma to weld a flange,” she snorted. The bolt resisted, but with steady force gave way. Four bolts in total held the device to the suit, not counting the data connection, with Maggie working each one free and setting it aside. It was as precise as an autopsy, and with the last bolt removed she swapped out her wrench for a smaller version before freeing the hardened fiber optic line. Once that was finished, a gentle tug pulled the cable free, as she held the metal box in her hand.

Mairead’s eyes glittered as if she were staring at a precious jewel. “Let’s get it hooked up and download the data,” she said in a husky voice filled with emotion.

“You still have the JK-2X setup we used for the other transponder?” Maggie asked.

“Yes...over here,” she answered, digging through a nearby box.

“Good...rig for the download while I get the case off,” she replied, getting to work freeing the electronics while Mairead prepped the Diagnostics console to read the data. “Almost got it,” she said a couple minutes later, working out the last screw. “You might wanna give your boss a call. Reckon he’ll want to be here for this.”

“Right,” Mairead nodded, tapping the intercom and sending a call up to the Bridge. It didn’t take long for Remi to join them, arriving just as the pair were finishing connecting the transponder.

“So?” the captain asked, hands on his hips. “What do we know?”

“We’re about to find out,” Maggie told him, as she punched in the sequence. The computer went to work, pulling the data from the ancient piece of tech. There had been changes in coding as well over the last two centuries, but the mainframe had the relevant files and translated the information to a format they were familiar with. Seconds later, it appeared on the screen.

“What the hell is that?” the Corsair said in confusion as he peered at the display. “Is it some kind of code?”

The two women looked at one another, crestfallen. “No...not code,” Maggie sighed. “Random noise.”

“...which means?” he prompted.

Maggie turned to face him. “The transponder’s slagged, from cosmic radiation maybe. We came all the way out here for nothin’.”